


Catch Me If You Can

by failedcharismacheck



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Attempt at Creating Romantic Tension, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, Miscommunication, guys bein' dudes, young people who haven't figured out how to gay yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-25 04:22:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19738234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/failedcharismacheck/pseuds/failedcharismacheck
Summary: “"Coming through!" Sirius shouts, scattering a group of Ravenclaws as he runs through the hall. He imagines he must look like an American football player, barreling through the crowd with Remus's book tucked under his arm, it’s owner in pursuit.”(It's more fun to make your crush chase you around the school than it is to talk about your feelings)





	Catch Me If You Can

**Author's Note:**

> "You construct intricate rituals which allow you to touch the skin of other men." -Barbara Kruger

"Coming through!" Sirius shouts, scattering a group of Ravenclaws as he runs through the hall. He imagines he must look like an American football player, barreling through the crowd with Remus's book tucked under his arm, it’s owner in pursuit.

"Excuse me, sorry, 'scuse me,” Remus, ever the prefect, can be heard as he navigates through Sirius’s wake as fast as he can. Sirius smiles as he runs. Keep-away became his favorite game sometime around Remus's final growth spurt, when his legs grew impossibly long and perfect for being chased by. He's not even sure what book he's stolen this time. He'd have to slow down to look, so he won't. He just knows it was in Remus's hands, and then suddenly his own hands as he was running away and laughing.

If he allowed himself to think about it, Sirius would notice that Remus's hands are usually the catalyst to this game. Like his legs, they’re long and thin and deceptively strong. Sirius looks at them, then inevitably feels this strange need to snatch away whatever they happen to be holding and _run_ , checking over his shoulder to make sure Remus follows. He always does.

The hall ends in a sharp right turn. Sirius starts to take it at full speed until, around the corner and over the heads of a cluster of first-years, he sees the tip of Professor McGonagall's tall, pointed hat. His shoes squeak against the floor as he halts, reaching out to steady himself against the wall his forward momentum nearly smashes him into. Luckily she hasn't noticed him yet, being so preoccupied with her herd of eleven-year-olds. So he straightens his clothing and walks calmly forward.

He catches the professor's eye as he passes her and gives his best cordial nod. "Minnie."

"Mr. Black," she returns, obvious suspicion in her eyes. Sirius would admit it wasn't completely unwarranted. But with nothing incriminating to go on (other than general reputation), she let's him go on by. He leisurely turns the corner and once he's out of sight, immediately breaks back into a sprint.

Two more hallways, a flight of stairs, and a final set of double doors later, Sirius is bursting outside into the sunlight as the heavy wood slams shut behind him. He makes it down the hill and half way to the lake before he slows to a stop. He turns to look back at the castle, hands resting on his knees as he catches his breath and waits.

It doesn't take long before the doors swing open once again to reveal Remus, his curly hair swept back from running, his cheeks red, and his eyes searching the landscape. Sirius stays put, waiting to be seen. There's no point to all this if he isn't caught, if Remus doesn't catch him. Maybe it’s the dog in him. If he could wag his tail in this form, he would.

Finally, Remus's eyes lock on him. He starts to shout, " _Sirius, I swear to Merlin--_ " but Sirius grins and takes off again before he can finish the threat.

He's still running as fast as he can but his legs are starting to burn, a sign that the end of the game is nearing. Even if he wasn't getting tired, the lake cuts off the path ahead and he has no plans to run into the water. Remus, long-legged Remus, is gaining on him as he slows. Sirius doesn't mind so much. As far as he's concerned, this is the good part.

He digs his heels into the grass, the dirt underneath softer this close to the lake's edge, and turns back to his (rapidly approaching) friend. He raises the book over his head with a smile. "Oh, sorry! Was this yours?"

Remus is still running in spite of Sirius's sudden stop, having been given little time to slow down. He reaches up for the stolen book and in doing so, Remus (a force very much stoppable) collides with Sirius (an object very much movable) and the two of them go toppling over. Sirius laughs as they meet the ground.

He half-heartedly attempts to wriggle out from under the werewolf, but the knees on either side of him and the hand against his chest keep him rooted to the spot. Remus grabs the wrist of the hand holding the book and presses it into the grass. Still laughing, Sirius lets it drop. He's lost this game, technically, but it strangely feels like a win anyway.

“Having fun, are you?” Remus asks, annoyance present in his voice even as it's breathless from exertion. Sirius can’t always tell the fun, pretend annoyance Remus so often puts on for him from the real and decidedly less fun.

“A bit,” he gambles, equally breathless.

A moment passes and Remus doesn't banter back like usual. The blank space is filled in by the sound of birds and wind passing over water.

But it's the lack of movement that has Sirius's attention, more than the lack of words. Remus is still above him, still keeping him planted to the ground and just... looking at him. Normally he'd be up and brushing the dirt from his knees by now. Sirius doesn’t dare move for fear of reminding Remus where he is. Maybe if he just stays perfectly still, they can stay just like this for a little while. Like this, with Remus's hands on his chest and his wrist, where if he focused he could feel his heartbeat racing. It's not exactly comfortable but Sirius will take what he can get.

He's well acquainted with Remus's studying face. Almost excessively so, if you asked his opinion. But it's rare that he finds it turned on him rather than notes or a book. Sirius just stares back, not knowing what else to do and if he's honest, thankful for the excuse. The sun, from Sirius’s vantage point, is directly behind Remus's head and it makes the edges of him glow.

Finally, Remus speaks. "Wouldn't it be so much easier to just ask?"

Sirius blinks, both in confusion and against the sun rays cut into Remus’s shape. "Ask for what?"

Another quiet moment passes and Remus lets out a deep sigh. Sirius can almost feel the warmth of it on his face.

"Alright then," Remus says.

Then the weight on top of Sirius is gone and Remus’s silhouette is disappearing and letting the sun shine directly into his eyes.

"What?" Sirius asks again as Remus gets to his feet. He props himself up on his elbows but makes no move to stand. He’d rather the other boy come back to join him in the grass.

But Remus does the opposite, snatching up his book and wordlessly starting back towards the castle. Real annoyance it is, then.

" _What?_ " Sirius calls after him, with more than a little irritation. He gets to his feet, grass stains on his elbows. "Am I missing something?"

"Forget it," Remus answers, swatting a dismissive hand behind him as he continues up the hill.

Sirius doesn't follow him.

* * *

He doesn't realize how frequently he and Remus actually touch until they don't anymore. It's never anything huge; nudging each other awake during boring classes, placing a hand on a shoulder to get the other's attention, picking leaves out of each other's hair after changing back from the Full. The contact is always small and passing, but it's just enough for Sirius to notice it stop after the incident by the lake.

Even the accidental touches, like bumping into each other in crowded hallways or brushing hands as they walk side by side, have ended. It's their sudden stop that makes Sirius start to wonder if maybe the touches weren't really so accidental. The thrill that realization sends through him quickly turns to bitterness as he remembers that now Remus has apparently decided to treat him like he's some sort of poisonous jellyfish. He doesn't run off with any of Remus's things during this time. He doubts he would still chase him.

Sirius can't stop thinking about it. At night, covers pulled up over his head, he thinks and thinks about it. He can't exactly walk up to Remus and say, _You haven't touched me in weeks and I don't know if it's on purpose or if I'm going crazy but if you could just straighten my tie or something_ once _I think I could live on that for months, please and thank you_.

An echo of Remus's voice in his head answers, repeating, _Wouldn't it be so much easier to just ask?_

Not much has been _easy_ for him lately. He likes boys, he knows that much. And he knows he feels a certain way about Remus, specifically. What he doesn't know is what to do with that information. Evidently, "devise a game with the secret purpose of being held, no matter how briefly" is not the correct answer.

Sirius, sick of thinking and desperate for sleep, closes his eyes and tries to think of Quidditch plays and motorbikes and other things that aren't freckled werewolf boys. He's nearly managing to drift off when he hears footsteps, too quiet to be James and too loud to be Peter. The footsteps, along with what sounds like the soft dragging of a blanket, move across the room. There's the creak of a door opening and closing and then silence once again. Sirius gets out of bed before he can convince himself it's a bad idea.

He descends the stairs to the common room quietly out of habit, having snuck out many times before. It's when he reaches the bottom and sets eyes on Remus (sat on the small couch closest to the fireplace, reading of course, with the blanket from his bed draped over his legs) that Sirius realizes he doesn't have a plan.

Remus looks up from his book and their eyes meet.

"Hey," Sirius says, his voice a little rough from its near-miss with sleep.

It's quiet. Even the portraits on the wall are asleep in their frames. There's just the crackling of the fire, unaware of the time of night.

"Hi," Remus says back. It sounds like a question.

"I, um..." He steps away from the stairs, his bare feet moving him forward until he's standing right in front of Remus. He doesn't quite meet his eyes, staring at the pattern of the couch just next to his ear. He fights the urge to defensively cross his arms over his chest.

Remus just watches him, waiting. The fire, like the sun, turns the edges of him gold.

"I'm asking," Sirius says, finally. Now that it's said, he looks Remus in the face. He takes a deep breath and says, "This is me asking."

Without breaking eye contact, Remus reaches out and wraps his fingers gently around Sirius's wrist. Sirius lets himself be pulled down onto the sofa, settling against Remus's side. He soaks in the warmth of Remus's body at every point they touch, from their shoulders down to their legs, so much more than the accidental brushing of knees and elbows that he was so used to and missed so much.

"Now, was that so difficult?" Remus asks, just above a whisper, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He readjusts the blanket to cover both pairs of legs.

For a moment, Sirius considers kissing him. He considers it deeply. He even goes so far as to look down at his lips, a move he's certain doesn't go unnoticed. But like by the lake, he fears too sudden a movement will ruin it all. Instead he shifts his gaze down to Remus's hand, long and perfect, where it rests on his knee. He threads their fingers together.

"I suppose this is easier than making you chase me down every time I want a cuddle, isn't it?" he answers.

Remus laughs and Sirius can feel the little shake it causes through his body. He's heard Remus's laugh before but he's never _felt_ it. Sirius lets his head drop to his shoulder before he can rethink his decision about kissing.

"I don't know what I'm doing," he confesses. It's partly an apology, both current and preemptive.

Remus rests his head on top of Sirius's. His thumb rubs slowly over the other boy's. "Me either."

They sit like that for a while. The silence doesn't feel so heavy this time.

"Go back to your book," Sirius says. "I promise not to take it from you."

"You promise?" Remus smiles, picking up it up and finding his page again. It's slightly awkward with one hand but he makes no moves to free his other one.

Sirius nods, the motion rubbing his cheek against Remus's t-shirt. He watches Remus read by firelight until his eyelids grow heavy and he falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I am the crowned monarch of run-on sentences, long may I reign


End file.
